Gospel Story Finder

At the end of a particularly tiring day toward the end of my first week as a General Authority, my briefcase was overloaded and my mind was preoccupied with the question “How can I possibly do this?” I left the office of the Seventy and entered the elevator of the Church Administration Building. As the elevator descended, my head was down and I stared blankly at the floor.
The door opened and someone entered, but I didn’t look up. As the door closed, I heard someone ask, “What are you looking at down there?” I recognized that voice—it was President Thomas S. Monson.
I quickly looked up and responded, “Oh, nothing.” (I’m sure that clever response inspired confidence in my abilities!)
But he had seen my subdued countenance and my heavy briefcase. He smiled and lovingly suggested, while pointing heavenward, “It is better to look up!” As we traveled down one more level, he cheerfully explained that he was on his way to the temple. When he bid me farewell, his parting glance spoke again to my heart, “Now, remember, it is better to look up.”
As we parted, the words of a scripture came to mind: “Believe in God; believe that he is … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth.”1 As I thought of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s power, my heart found the comfort I had sought in vain from the floor of that descending elevator.

Let me contrast her painful despair with another family’s hope in Christ during a heartbreaking time.
Twenty-one years ago the newborn son of my nephew Ben Andersen and his wife, Robbie, was life-flighted from their Idaho farming community to Salt Lake City. I arrived at the hospital, and Ben explained the severe, life-threatening complications with their baby’s heart. We placed our hands on Trey’s tiny head. The Lord blessed him with continued life.
Trey had heart surgery the first week of his life, and more surgeries followed. As the years passed, it became apparent that Trey would need a heart transplant. Although his physical activities were limited, his faith expanded. He wrote, “I have never felt sorry for myself because I have always known the importance of having faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of the plan of salvation.”
Trey kept on his phone this well-known quote from President Nelson: “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”
Trey wrote: “I have always looked forward to serving a full-time mission, but … my doctors won’t let me serve a mission until at least a year after my transplant. … I’ve put my faith in Jesus Christ.”
Trey was excited at being accepted into the accounting major at BYU beginning this semester, but even more excited in late July when he received the very anticipated telephone call to come to the hospital for his heart transplant.
“One year,” Trey said, “and I will be on my mission.”
There were great expectations as he entered the operating room. However, during the surgery there were devastating complications, and Trey never regained consciousness.
His mother, Robbie, said: “Friday had been the most heartbreaking day … just trying to wrap our minds around it. … I had stayed up late just trying to process everything. … But Saturday, I woke up with a feeling of absolute joy. It wasn’t just peace; it wasn’t denial. I felt joy for my son, and I felt joy as his mother. … Ben had gotten up a lot earlier than me, and when we finally got a chance to talk, Ben had awakened with the exact same feeling.”
Ben explained: “Clarity came to my soul as God taught me through His Holy Spirit. I awoke at 4:00 a.m. and was filled with indescribable peace and joy. How is this possible? … The passing of Trey is so very painful, and I miss him so much. But the Lord does not leave us comfortless. … I look forward to a joyful reunion.”
Trey had noted in his journal these words from President Nelson’s general conference talk: “It doesn’t seem possible to feel joy when your child suffers with an incurable illness or when you lose your job or when your spouse betrays you. Yet that is precisely the joy the Savior offers. His joy is constant, assuring us that our ‘afflictions shall be but a small moment’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:7] and be consecrated to our gain.”

I remember how the shrill scream of a siren gave me goose bumps whenever an ambulance went rushing by. Oh, how I wanted to be at the wheel of that machine, rushing to the aid of sick and injured people! As I grew older, my dream became a reality. I took first-aid classes, human science classes, and, finally, an emergency medical technician training course.
I was just out of high school when I got my first job as an ambulance attendant for a private ambulance, and I progressed rapidly in my knowledge of emergency treatments. I learned many things about life that most people never learn until much older. I was also exposed to many trials and temptations that I’d never faced before.
I worked in a non-Mormon atmosphere. It was the type of atmosphere that my Church leaders always had warned me about, but at the time, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about it. My work began conflicting with my church attendance. I started asking myself questions and often wondered about my future. I could see myself progressing into higher fields of medicine, and it seemed that nothing stood in my way. Then, on my 19th birthday, I made my way to California and applied to a hospital paramedic program. I was accepted and could enter in the fall semester. I knew then that was exactly what I wanted to do.
Suddenly it dawned on me—what about a mission? Oh, sure, I had always told my friends and family that I would go. I had even told my employer I was planning on a mission. But all of that seemed unimportant now. All I could see was personal satisfaction, and I didn’t care what kind of spiritual development I’d surely miss. The voice of the prophet still echoed in my mind, “Every young man is to fulfill a mission.” But the thought always came back, “In two years’ time, look how far you could be as a paramedic!”
I didn’t know what to do. I knew deep down in my heart that a mission was the right thing, but I was swayed by selfishness. The decision to go or not to go was constantly on my mind. I thought about it from the time I got up in the morning until the time I went to bed at night. Because we worked 24-hour shifts, I had lots of time to think.
One night right after I had gone to bed, I was awakened by the ring of the telephone. The highway patrol was calling for an ambulance to respond to an accident on the freeway, and soon I was at the scene. A small car had run into the back of a semitrailer loaded with wooden fence posts. The badly mangled car had two occupants—a young couple who had recently been married. The husband, who was driving, had been killed instantly. His wife was critically injured. We worked desperately to save the slowly fading life of that beautiful 19-year-old woman. I thought to myself, How could something so terrible happen to this fine couple and totally destroy their future plans and happiness?
We rushed her to the hospital, where a team of highly trained doctors and nurses were waiting. Soon a helicopter arrived to transport her to a hospital in Salt Lake City, where she could receive special treatment for a severe head injury.
After I calmed down from the shock of the accident, I talked to the highway patrolman who would be responsible for notifying the next of kin. I’ll never forget the solemn look on his face and the glaze of tears in his eyes as he drove away. I thought to myself, What a horrible assignment! What if it were my parents being notified? Then another thought came to my mind: What will be the look on my face when I give an accounting to the Savior of the time I spent here in mortality?
The night air was chilled with a late frost. As I gazed up into the night, I noticed how clear and calm the sky looked. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and I found myself pleading with the Lord for that young woman’s life. At that moment, when my heart actually seemed to swell painfully with love and compassion, I finally began to understand. Doctors and nurses and paramedics were wonderful, but they could treat only the body. They couldn’t heal the deeper wounds, the ones that would keep us from going home to our Father. Only one Physician could do that, and I was denying myself the chance to be his helper. I made a decision. I would do all I could to further the work of the Master Healer. I would serve a mission.
The days came and went. Finally, one month after the accident, I learned my prayers had been answered. The young woman was released from the hospital, completely recovered. How I thanked our Eternal Father for that answer! Now it was time to keep my commitment to serve a mission.
As I prayed and prepared myself, the Spirit confirmed that I was to serve my Heavenly Father as a missionary. I’ll never forget the calm, sweet feeling that came as our stake patriarch pronounced a patriarchal blessing upon me. And I’ll never forget that same feeling as I opened the letter from a prophet of God calling me to serve in the Pennsylvania Harrisburg Mission. Even as I served in Pennsylvania, as a representative of Jesus Christ, I had that special, calm feeling, knowing that I had made the right choice.
Before I left for the mission field, I thought there was no feeling in the world like knowing someone was walking again because of your help. But I was wrong. There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing you helped someone in their search for true joy and happiness found only in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Over 120 young single adults from the Kasoa Ghana Stake celebrated Valentine’s Day at the house of the Lord. Many of them entered the temple for the first time. Some brought family names, some received their own endowment, and everyone participated in gathering Israel. They felt the love of the Lord as they made covenants for themselves and their ancestors. The trip included devotionals and social activities at the Cantonments institute campus, a tour of the MTC, and a visit to the area office to see the Gathering Place displays. Ideas were shared on how to build capacity in the kingdom of God. It was a spiritually uplifting and testimony strengthening trip. The YSAs hope the Valentine’s Day visit to the temple will become an annual tradition.

I remember the day my tenth-grade English teacher announced she had some exchange-student applications. Though I had never considered applying before, it felt right. I was thrilled to learn I would spend a year in Denmark. My ancestors had emigrated to Zion from Denmark well over a century ago.
My new home was in Nakskov, on the island of Lolland. Unfortunately, the nearest ward was several hours away.
After two months in Denmark, however, I learned about a small group of Saints who met closer to my home. To get there, I would have to ride a private railway. The train fare was around 40 crowns, nearly all my spending allowance for the week. It was fast Sunday, and I scraped together all the money I had—about 43 Danish crowns. I figured it would be sufficient if I got the round-trip discount. There would not be any money left over for a fast offering, but I felt the Lord would understand why.
As the train moved away from the station, the conductor came by and said, “Two crowns.” My fledgling Danish had to be mistaken—I knew the trip cost more than two crowns. After offering him most of what I had, he took a bill and gave me change. The fare was only two crowns! I knew the Lord was watching out for me.
In a little attic apartment above a store was a tiny room containing a group of elderly women. One of them smiled, motioned me inside, and knocked on an adjoining door. I was greeted into priesthood meeting. There were about five older brethren and two young missionaries.
I couldn’t understand much of what went on, but some hymns were familiar. There were tears as testimonies were shared.
When I told the missionaries my train fare was only two crowns, they couldn’t believe it. I soon discovered the return trip was also just two crowns. I realized I could pay my fast offering after all. Later, I learned that in celebration of the centennial of the train system the fare had been reduced to two crowns for just that one day.
That was the beginning of my church experiences in Denmark. I was ordained a priest there, and the first time I ever blessed the sacrament was in Danish. As my language improved, I even spoke in church. Eventually, I was called on a mission to Denmark. I attended church with those members again, four years after my first visit. I watched as the man who ordained me a priest was sustained as president of the newly organized branch.
In Denmark I received spiritual depth, both as an exchange student and as a missionary. It began with my miraculous fast offering and a train ride to church one bright Sunday morning.

To protect the not-so-innocent, I won’t name names, but this experience involved one of my children and a few of her friends getting sent to the principal’s office in first grade after an incident involving a secret club, a confrontation, and another girl getting tapped on the head with a stick. Though the situation was quickly resolved by missing recess and writing an apology to the girl who had been hit, the incident continues to haunt my daughter. Last fall, in the weeks before starting third grade, we often found my daughter in tears, worrying that her new teacher and friends would discover that she had been sent to the principal’s office in first grade and that her social life and academic future would be forever ruined.

In fact, just last week, when asked if she was happy, her response was, “I would be if I hadn’t been sent to the principal’s office in first grade.”

Worst of all, she often questions her worth and, most important, her ability to go to the celestial kingdom, because, after all, “no one else in our family has ever been sent to the principal’s office.”

Would you like to share the gospel but just aren’t sure how to approach your friends? The teenagers in the Lake Butler Ward, Lake City Florida Stake, participated in a nine-week program for fellowshipping that helped them realize sharing the gospel is not as hard as it seems.
Every week they were assigned a specific activity to strengthen each other and get their nonmember friends interested in the gospel. In the ninth week the ward mission leader and his wife planned a party for the youth. The ticket required to get into the party was a nonmember friend, but after the nine-week program, that was no problem for these young missionaries.
This is the plan they followed:
Week 1: Respond positively to negative comments you hear.
Week 2: Get to be better friends with a member of the ward.
Week 3: List your positive qualities, and another you’d like to develop.
Week 4: Pray about finding a friend to fellowship.
Week 5: Plan an approach to your fellowshipping. Each day do something to let your friend know about the Church and what you believe. Invite him to the activity.
Week 6: Pray about giving your friend a Book of Mormon.
Week 7: Give your friend a Book of Mormon with marked scriptures and your testimony. Talk to him or her about what you’ve written.
Week 8: Encourage your friends to come to the party.
Week 9: The party!
To keep the youth interested in a party that was so far away, the leaders delivered clues once a week to tell what would be happening at the party. None of the teenagers really knew what was going to happen, and the clues just seemed to confuse them even more. Even when they got to the party they still didn’t know all the details. They were divided into teams and sent on a treasure hunt that included whistling Dixie, blowing up balloons, and kissing a horse—all before the other teams could finish first. It all ended with a pool party and lots of fun for everyone. It was a great way to teach the youth that missionary work isn’t as hard as it seems, and an even better way to introduce more people to the gospel.

A Laurel wrote of her desire to respond to President Hinckley’s words about missionary work. Her personal message was to be a missionary by being a better example to her friends. At first she found this difficult to do, but she didn’t give up. Finally, she changed her habits successfully.
She writes: “We got out of school early and all went to a friend’s house to watch a video. They wanted to watch one that was rated R and they said it wasn’t that bad. I was going to go along with it because I was sick of being the one to always be good. Luckily, one of the guys spoke up against it, refusing to watch it. I felt an overwhelming relief. But then they watched a PG-13 movie that was probably just as bad. I tried my hardest to talk them out of it, but couldn’t. I should have gone home, but didn’t. I regret it. That night in my prayers I promised the Lord to be a better example to my friends. Since then I’ve cut some words out of my speech. I’ve quit sluffing [skipping school], and some of my friends have stopped now too. I suggest better movies, and every time they choose something I’d rather not see, I leave.”

In June 1830 the prophet Joseph Smith’s brother, Samuel, set out on the first missionary journey for the Church. He took with him several copies of the Book of Mormon, but was unsuccessful in his attempts to sell them. He returned home disappointed and discouraged, feeling that his work had proved to be fruitless.

Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

The thought of going from England to the United States was exciting, and performing in a Church-themed musical would be fantastic! I quickly signed up for the trip, not thinking about the cost.
I started saving my money, but I knew it was going to be difficult. I was at a new job, which had been amazing for work experience but didn’t pay well, and I was really struggling for money.
One afternoon I was looking at my bills. As I calculated everything I owed, I thought back to the previous Sunday. We’d had a lesson about paying tithing and the blessings that would come. During the lesson I’d been thinking about how I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. I realized that if I paid my tithing, my bank account would be emptied.
I wouldn’t have time to earn enough money to go on the trip or have any spending money while there. But I knew I had to pay my tithing.
The next Sunday, I filled out the tithing slip and gave it to my bishop. I wondered what I was going to do about the money I’d need for this trip, but I told myself that if I showed my faithfulness, everything would work out for the best. I hoped that meant I could find a way to go on the trip.
Not 10 minutes after I gave my tithing envelope to the bishop, a woman in my ward came up to me and handed me another envelope. “Just something to wish you luck on your trip. Have a good time!” she said. I’d been in the ward for only six months and didn’t know her very well, but I did know that she had 10 children and led a very busy life.
When I got home, I opened the envelope to find U.S. money. I immediately called her up and told her I couldn’t accept the money she had given me. She stopped me short. “Beth, this is something I felt really prompted to do. I really want to do this and help you out with your trip. I really want you to be able to have a good time.”
I sat at the desk in my room, absolutely stunned. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. As I stared at the money, I started wondering about the currency conversion. I had paid my tithing in British pounds, and she had given me U.S. dollars. I quickly looked on the Internet to see the conversion rates. As I typed in the amount of dollars I had just been given, I stared in shock at the screen. It was the exact amount that I had paid in tithing, plus 10 pence. I couldn’t believe my eyes!
Now I was back to my starting balance. I was so grateful to the Lord. With that, I would have just enough money to go on my trip, although I wouldn’t be able to go on any outings or buy anything, including food.
The next morning, a friend of mine called me out of the blue and told me about a job. It would last for one week and the hours were terrible, but it paid really well—enough to provide money for food and other activities while on my trip.
Even though it wasn’t easy for me to give up the last of my money for tithing, I knew that the money wasn’t mine—it was the Lord’s. I know that tithing can really bless lives when it is paid faithfully, and I saw this in my own life.

While I was serving as president of the European area, Sister Wirthlin and I traveled throughout Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway holding meetings and conferences with members and missionaries in these northern lands. As we neared the end of our rigorous travels, we arrived, along with President and Sister John Langeland, in the small city of Alta, Norway. We held a meeting with the members and afterward climbed a beautiful mountain and at midnight enjoyed a picnic with them. It was as light as noon-day. At that time of the year there was no sunset in Alta, which is located near the top of the world, lying well inside the Arctic Circle. We watched the sun hover in a straight line as it moved across the horizon, and we marveled at the precision and exactness that the Savior employed in creating the earth in all its majesty.

As President Langeland and I reviewed our many meetings and travels, we were happy that we had made the extra effort to meet with the members in such a remote part of Norway. Over the years there had been few General Authorities who had visited these small and widely scattered branches. But, while chatting with the local Church leaders, we learned that there was yet one more small branch even further north. We learned that in the city of Hammerfest, which is located on the other side of a high mountain north of Alta, a branch of the Church had been established, a small branch that was not on our itinerary. Hammerfest is one of the world’s northernmost cities, making its tiny branch one of the most remote units of the Church. To our surprise, we learned that several years earlier, Elder Howard W. Hunter had been the first General Authority to visit the Hammerfest Branch, a visit that was accomplished with considerable difficulty. The story of that visit is worth telling because it says so much about the man who the Lord has now chosen as his prophet, seer, and revelator:

“Hammerfest is difficult to reach by normal transportation. It was originally planned that the visitors would fly . . . by seaplane. A change in the weather eliminated any possibility of using a plane, as is often the case. It was decided that they should travel by car from Alta, the closest city to Hammerfest with a commercial airport. Snow had started to cover the roads. Several times en route Elder Hunter and Pres. [Leo M.] Jacobsen had to push their car through the snow. When it seemed as if further progress was impossible, a truck came by and towed the car over the summit to Hammerfest.”

They finally arrived at ten-thirty that night for a meeting that was to have started at seven o’clock, and found that most of the members had waited. ‘They had come from a number of places along the north cape and from as far as Kirkenes near the Russian border.” [Eleanor Knowles, Howard W. Hunter (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1994), pp. 175–76]

The members in Hammerfest, anxious to meet an apostle of the Lord and to hear the voice of one called as a special witness, waited three and a half hours for Elder Hunter’s delayed arrival. Their faith, hope, and prayers were rewarded as he shared with them his powerful testimony of the Savior. Despite great hardship, Elder Hunter, with God’s blessings and protecting care, kept his commitment to minister to the Lord’s sheep in that faraway small branch.

As a result of [his] visit, “missionaries report[ed] a more friendly attitude among the people of the town and a new feeling of strength among the local members.” [Knowles, Hunter, p. 176]

I have been doing some reflection on how I ended up at BYU–Hawaii as a young man in the pre-historic era of 1988. If you had told my younger self that he would leave Tonga for Hawaii, he would not have believed it. Like many of you, I realized early that education was key to a better life. My goal was to do well in school and attend university in New Zealand. When I was in middle school, I attended a devotional where the speaker taught about the power of fasting. I felt inspired to apply this principle in my life even though I did not fully understand it. I committed to fast regularly outside of first Sundays to make my dream of attending a university in New Zealand a reality.

Growing up with little, fasting felt like a big sacrifice, but I kept at it and worked hard in school. I was certain God would answer my prayers. However, after high school, I failed my entrance exams and was rejected by every school I applied to. I was shocked and could not understand why God had not blessed me in the way I wanted after all my efforts and sacrifices.

For two years, I drifted without direction. Then, BYU–Hawaii recruiters visited the hotel I worked at in Tonga. Despite not knowing me or my transcripts, they were inspired to invite me to attend BYU–Hawaii. Being stubborn, I initially refused, but they returned and invited me again, and I am forever grateful they did.

Looking back, I realized these recruiters were God’s response to my prayers. I was so focused on New Zealand that I forgot to focus on what God wanted for me. By bringing me to BYU–Hawaii, God forever altered the trajectory of my life. The blessings that He had in store for me were much greater than the ones I had imagined for myself.

Aloha. It was in the summer of 1987 I was preparing to graduate from BYU–Hawaii with a degree in Hospitality and Tourism Management. It had been a wonderful and challenging journey for our young family. My wife and I were both students at that time and we had our four beautiful daughters all under the age of 8 years old. We lived in the highly aspired TVA, in building D. I was excited to graduate and had applied at several hotel chains in Hawaii. I thought I was a perfect match for the hotel industry. I was bringing a background of experience in the industry which I had obtained previously before coming to school and now I had added a degree.
As graduation approached and what I presumed was a time for my family and I to relocate to start my career, my sweet wife shared with me that we still needed to be here and that she needed to continue in her schooling. After several long discussions together, fasting and praying we decided that we would stay here on campus for one more year.
After my graduation, my sweetheart continued her schooling and I accepted an internship in Food Services. This transition for me was very difficult. I had said yes to stay here BUT my heart and mind were definitely saying – NO. I struggled with this decision for several months. It became increasingly difficult when friends would ask me what I was doing now that I had graduated or when prospective employers called for second interviews or had tendered job offers. In my own way, I felt that I had been dealt an unjust hand in my life and questioned the value of our decision. I often knelt down and confided in the Lord of my predicament pleading my case before him.
What seemed like eternity was really only a short period of time but one day a gentle answer to my pleadings came into my mind and heart, “I was not yet as Joseph, who was sold into Egypt.” I vaguely remembered the details of Joseph’s story, but knew that this was my answer and I had a lesson to learn. I quickly grabbed my scriptures and poured myself into his story which reassured me that the Lord had not forgotten me and I was about to learn some valuable life lessons through his tutoring and in preparation of what was to come.
Within a year of our decision to stay here, my wife and I both felt the whispering from the spirit that the time had finally arrived and we needed to prepare to leave. Both my wife and the Lord had been very patient with me during this time. In July 1988, we packed our young family, said good-bye to our loved ones and moved to Utah to begin our new life. I had accepted an offer to work at BYU Provo and as I looked around this campus, I thought to myself this would be my last farewell to BYU–Hawaii… and as you can plainly see I have come back, and I am still learning.

Hans’s family is made up of Hans and his mother. When he was born, his mother was not a member of the Church. But the family she worked for as a housemaid were Latter-day Saints. They asked if they could take the baby to church to receive a blessing.

Although Hans’s mother didn’t want to go, she allowed them to take her baby for the blessing. Hans has attended church ever since. Wherever he and his mother have lived, she has found members to take him to church.

Hans was baptized when he was eight years old and is now preparing to become a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood.

Why didn’t Hans’s mother ever go to church with him? “Because my past was very sad and dark,” she says. “I didn’t understand that Heavenly Father’s love for me was so great. I didn’t know He could forgive me for my mistakes. But Hans was a light leading me to the truth.”

First, I should like to tell you about a different kind of classroom with a unique group of teachers. The students have come from a state-run shelter for juvenile offenders of the law to be instructed by prison inmates serving life terms or more than twenty-five years.

Let me describe a group of recent participants in what is known as the Juvenile Awareness Program. There were twenty of them, including several as young as fourteen with tattoos on their arms, and all had had minor scrapes with the law, ranging from break-ins to shoplifting and assault. They arrived by bus and strutted cockily into the prison confines. Three hours later they walked out timidly—some shaking and near tears.

Their change in attitude came after their "teachers" gave them firsthand information about prison life. In the vilest of language, and with frequent threats of violence (although never carried out), the class members were transformed from fidgeting, squirming, disinterested youths to a spellbound, captive audience.

Let me repeat some of the words of the "instructors" which brought about this change.

"I’m 45 years old now and I know I’m never going to see the streets again," said a convicted murderer. "We’re all dying to get out and you guys are pounding on the doors, saying, ‘Let us in.’"

Another statement: "The Hollywood image of prison doesn’t tell you about gang rapes and suicides. That happens all the time here. And you little punks are fresh meat."

A convicted kidnapper told the boys: "I’ve been in here for 16 years and you guys can’t sit still for a couple of hours. If you’re going to be criminals, you better get used to someone telling you what to do all the time." (Salt Lake Tribune, July 19, 1977, pp. 1–2.)

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf tells this story about trusting in the Lord and gaining confidence.“During a busy season of my life, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin extended a call to me to serve as stake president.
“During my interview with him, many thoughts raced through my mind, not the least of which was the unsettling worry that I might not have the time this calling would require. Although I felt humbled and honored by the call, I briefly wondered if I could accept it. But it was only a fleeting thought because I knew that Elder Wirthlin was called of God and that he was doing the Lord’s work. What could I do but accept?
“There are times when we have to step into the darkness in faith, confident that God will place solid ground beneath our feet once we do. And so I accepted gladly, knowing that God would provide.”

When one woman visited Sequoia National Park in the western United States, she was astonished to learn that giant redwood trees have no major taproot to hold them deep in the ground. How is it possible, she asked, for the top-heavy trees to keep from falling when severe winds come? The guide responded that the trees grow close together. Their roots, although near the surface, intertwine with those of the other trees. A tree standing alone could fall. But the interconnected trees in a grove support each other well.

As missionaries in the Canada Winnipeg Mission, my companion and I were serving in the beautiful city of Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. I had grown up in Laie, Hawaii, in the shadow of the Laie Hawaii Temple. My companion, Elder Larmour, came from Belfast, Northern Ireland. Our families and wards back home supported us, but at times our monthly allotment of funds was held up en route. Such was the situation that brought about this experience.
At the beginning of one month, after I received my check, we waited for Elder Larmour’s to be forwarded from the mission office. As usual, our rent was due and the cupboards were getting bare. We had to decide whether we should pay the rent with my check or buy food. We paid the rent.
A few days passed and we still hadn’t received Elder Larmour’s money. We had eaten all the food in our apartment, except for half a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and an old freezer-burned soup bone that took some effort to pry loose from its icy confines. With these ingredients I cooked a vegetable soup. It wasn’t much, but we were grateful for what we had.
The next day we decided to tract in an area not too far from home. The street seemed endless, and no one was interested in our message. Hunger pangs tormented us, and we were both getting faint from lack of food. As we came to the end of the street, we decided to take a break. We found a bench in a park at the end of this street and tried to recover our strength. My companion said in a sincere plea, “I’m hungry.” My heart went out to him as we sat there. I was twice his size. I knew I would be able to endure for quite a while, but I did not think he’d be able to go on for long if he didn’t get something to eat.
I was the senior companion, so in my heart I pleaded with Heavenly Father to provide the means we needed to get us through. I looked across the park and noticed a short street with about five homes on it. It was a continuation of the long street we had just tracted. I turned to my companion and said, “Come on, let’s finish this street.” He turned to me and said, “Let’s just go home.” We came to an agreement that if we finished the street and no one was interested, we would then head home.
As we walked past the first home, a couple was busy in the driveway doing some work on their car. A call of “Not today, guys” kept us moving to the next home. As we approached the door, we could smell the wonderful aroma of home cooking. Suddenly the door opened wide, and a smiling, middle-aged woman greeted us with “Come in, boys. I hope you’re hungry!”
With hesitation we entered her home, not knowing what to expect. She led us to the dining room, where two places were already set. We sat down and she busied herself with serving us. I started to get a lump in my throat, anticipating a feast fit for kings. Or perhaps we would be thrown out when she finally came to her senses and realized who we were.
After filling the table with pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, and all the fixings, she said, “I don’t know why I cooked all this food, but something told me to do it. I wasn’t expecting company, and I live here alone. I’m sure glad you boys happened by. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
I replied, “No, but do you know who we are?”
“You’re Mormon missionaries, aren’t you?” she answered. “So don’t you say a blessing on the food before you eat?”
We did bless the food and give thanks for the many blessings the Lord had given us. And to this day I cannot think of a better meal than that meal the Lord provided in our time of need.

In 1992, two sister missionaries in Zagreb, Croatia, were returning to their apartment one evening. Their last teaching appointment had been some distance away, and it was getting dark. Several men on the trolley made crude comments and became rather menacing. Feeling threatened, the sisters got off the trolley at the next stop just as the doors closed so no one could follow them. Having avoided that problem, they realized they were in a place unknown to either of them. As they turned to look for help, they saw a woman. The missionaries explained that they were lost and asked the woman if she could direct them. She knew where they could find another trolley to take them home and invited them to follow her. On the way they had to pass a bar with patrons sitting along the sidewalk in the gathering darkness. These men also appeared threatening. Nevertheless, the two young women had the distinct impression that the men could not see them. They walked by, apparently invisible to those who might have had a mind to harm them. When the sisters and their guide reached the stop, the trolley they needed was just arriving. They turned to thank the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.
These missionaries were furnished a guide and other blessings to protect them physically. As you become converted, you will have comparable protections to keep you from temptation and deliver you from evil. Sometimes evil will not find you. Sometimes you will be protected when evil is made invisible to you. Even when you must confront it directly, you will do so with faith, not fear.

I had a problem with overeating. My repeated bouts of gorging resulted in a harrowing mass of guilt, frustration, and disappointment. I felt so weak when I tried to overcome my problem.
For a long time I neglected the fact that the Savior’s Atonement not only saves us but also redeems us and perfects us, and that this even applies to my obviously imperfect habit of overeating.
I decided to give myself to my Savior. I prayed. I sincerely admitted my weakness and my need for grace, and then I asked Heavenly Father to bless me with His divine assistance in the upcoming day. That night I felt the assurance of a loving Father that He had the immeasurable desire to help His son and the unquestionable power to fulfill His will.
Since that night, food no longer has the same overwhelming influence over me. I know Jesus Christ is the reason for my success. Just like Paul, I am learning that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). And I’m trying to never forget another lesson from Paul: “Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57).